


Dark and Moody Lover

by 13thDoctor



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Jessidy, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 08:03:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7259257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thDoctor/pseuds/13thDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: Jesse finds out about the Toadvine whorehouse and kissing Tulip, so he kicks Cassidy out of the church. Cassidy tries to come back that night but Jesse isn't sitting in the pews with a bottle waiting for him like always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark and Moody Lover

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to drop prompts at fuckyeahjessidy.tumblr.com  
> The title is from the song of the same name by Wolf Colony.  
> Comments and kudos are appreciated, as always. Thank you, and enjoy!

Proinsias Cassidy had three weaknesses, two of which meshed beautifully and had only given him the kind of trouble he predicted and instigated. It made him sound like some overused cliche of a rock star, but sex and controlled substances had been a constant in his life. A constant downfall, of course, but a reliable one.

There was nothing predictable about weakness number three, Annville’s own Jesse Custer.

Cass had lived 119 years as a stoner, a drunkard, an addict, and a slut. And yet he could not recall a single instance in which he had been as in love with someone as he was with Jesse, and that put him in a very keen mood for some very strong drugs and alcohol. It wasn’t that he was terrified of love--his frequent and dramatic advances upon Jesse were indicative enough of that--but that he and commitment were not exactly on speaking terms. That and, he wasn’t entirely what someone might deem ‘boyfriend material.’

So one night after a bottle or three of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes gone, Jesse’s lips being where the opening of a bottle should have been was completely surprising. Jesse’s lips being where the fly of his pants should have been was even better.

And somehow, that was that. They developed a pattern of sins, becoming filthier with each meeting and yet so much happier than before. Cassidy kept the heroin in the attic and Jesse tried to leave God at the door, if only because he promised Cassidy that he could have him all to himself.

They got so shitfaced in the church one night that they fucked right on the pews, and Cassidy could have sworn that was what Heaven felt like, if he believed in all that nonsense. The pair stumbled in the community rooms after, giggling like promiscuous teenagers as they laid kiss upon kiss on each other’s mouths.

“I think I love you, Cass.”

There it was. The declaration, the bucket of the ice, the knife in the gut. Cassidy had planned to tell Jesse about the government-clone-angel men that night and warn him about another impending chainsaw attack, and instead he was saddled with the commitment issue again. There was definitely not enough pills in his system to handle that.

“You’re pissed,” the vampire retorted.

Jesse raised his eyebrows angrily and stumbled out of Cassidy’s arms. “Don’t change how I feel.”

“I’m sure,” Cassidy bit back sardonically, even as his stomach catapulted every which way. “Sleep probably will, though.”

“Fuck you,” Jesse shouted.

Cassidy smiled, his usual sharp, toothy expression, but it did not reach his eyes. “I t’ink we’ve had enough of that for one night.” He added a chuckle, but it felt hollow.

Jesse threw himself on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table. “I think I’ve had enough of _you_ for one night.”

“G’night, then, Jess,” Cassidy said with as much dignity as he could muster. He walked back to the attic with his head reeling and heart pounding, feet dragging and body aching.

He didn’t sleep. Dawn came and he groaned, booze and Jesse on his breath, but only Jesse on his mind. The man was a special kind of stupid if he thought he was in love with Cassidy. Belligerent, self-serving Cassidy. No, he wouldn’t allow that.

He at least changed to make it seem as if he wasn’t kept up by thoughts of the preacher; dinosaur pajama pants and a ratty robe from the donation bins. After he got together breakfast--a fresh apple pipe--he headed downstairs, singularly guided by his mission.

Jesse was praying. Head bowed, infuriatingly pious and intense, he bore no signs of a hangover. He never did.

“Can I get a word in?” Cassidy asked, all giggles and forgiveness.

“No,” Jesse answered, all gloom and grudges.

The vampire should have expected it, but his lover was caustic and ill-tempered. He snipped about the air-conditioning, ignored Cassidy’s warnings, and generally made a rather grand display of animosity. When he drove off in that pickup truck with a jibe at Cassidy’s borrowed outfit, he wanted to run after him and kiss that smug, wounded smirk from his face. Because if Cassidy was good at anything, it was fucking away his feelings.

Ideas clicked into place in disturbingly rapid succession, but at least he wasn’t sitting on his ass and moping and being boring. So he put on an outfit he begrudgingly admitted was an ensemble that might please Jesse and went to see a couple of angels.

He took a generous amount from the short one’s wallet, knowing that the good stuff wasn’t cheap, especially in Texas, where the dealers had a nice niche with the cartels. He nodded along when they asked him to betray his best mate, and gave the most vaguely specific time he could manage. The pair’s skeptical eyes followed him out of the motel’s door.

They didn’t follow him to the back alleys and the bars, nor to the place the drugs took him--Toadvine Whorehouse.

If asked to explain his idiotic decision, he would have blamed the uppers, which always made him horny. He would not cite his rapid obsession with a certain preacher, nor how much he fucked up that little romance. He would not blame his lack of ability to settle down, give himself over, be in a _relationship._ It was absolutely, without question, the pills and powder. And when he asked Miss I-beat-you-with-a-baton to kiss him, well, that was adrenaline and leftover libido from his interrupted fuck with a woman who looked and felt absolutely nothing like Jesse Custer, as was the intention.

She was nice enough, and he had to remind himself not to laugh when she started praying for his survival. The only way God was involved in his immortality was by making him continue it, which Cassidy figured was punishment of a kind. This, this glass in his throat and heroin in his veins pumping to a broken heart, this was unquestionably punishment. Of his own making, sure. But the blood still ran and his nervous system still responded.

When he was done sucking cold bags dry, he learned her name was Priscilla Jean O’Hare, but most of her friends called her Tulip. She kicked him and laughed at him for making her kiss him, and then insisted he call her Tulip. Smiling the whole time, she also helped him clear off all the blood and put clean clothes, including new pants, on. He liked her already.

“Where you headed?” she asked as they walked back to her car, sharing a cigarette.

“To buy you a drink?” he inquired cheekily.

She rolled her eyes. “After all the drugs we found on that dresser, I’m gonna say a reasonable no to that. But thanks.”

Her drawl was all dark honey and smoke, and it hurt how much she reminded him of Jesse. He kicked around some loose gravel in the parking lot before they got in the car. When he finished the cigarette, she crushed it under her heels and slammed the door shut.

“Listen,” she said, lighting another, “I ain’t no babysitter, especially for… whatever you are.”

“Vampire,” he corrected happily.

She waved her hands flippantly. “Yeah, okay, that. So let me give you a drive home for sendin’ you through a window and we’ll call it even. You an outta-towner? Never seen you before tonight.”

“I’ve been living at the Annville church attic.” He stole the cigarette from her and regarded her from above the plumes of smoke he exhaled.

She raised her eyebrows. “Bats in the belfry?”

He laughed. “Ay. So you know it?” Another drag. He wished he had something stronger.

She shifted minutely, just a hint of discomfort gnawing at her cool exterior. When she put the car in gear and the engine roared to life, he was still staring at her tight red lips, wishing for an answer.

“Been there long?” she inquired instead.

“Long enough.”

“What’s that mean?” She glanced at him sideways with a chuckle. “Too much Jesus for you?”

“Too much Jesse.”

The wince told him she knew the preacher, as well as the way her knuckles gripped the steering wheel like she was choking him. “You too, huh?” He appreciated that she didn’t play it off or play dumb.

Cassidy sighed. “The Padre’s got a way about him, hmm?”

Thankfully they were alone on the road, because one minute they were going 100 miles over the speed limit, and the next they were screeching to a stop on the pavement, Cassidy shrieking obscenities and Tulip remaining stoic yet livid.

“Padre?” she shouted.

“What the fuck, lady. Yes, Padre, I call him Padre, you got a problem with tha,’ have ya?”

“I've been _talkin’_ to Jesse lately,” she growled, and Cassidy made himself smaller in the corner of the passenger seat. “One a’ the reasons he won’t leave this piece a’ shit town is _you,_ Cassidy.”

His finger waggled accusingly at her. “Wait a minute, how’d you know that? Have you been spyin’ on us?” He tried to ignore the statement, which hit a little too close to his heart for comfort.

“We’ve been _talking,_ ” she emphasized slowly, like he was a child. “Jesse, I said, come back with me and kill this guy we hate. No,” she imitated his voice as best she could, “Tulip, I have someone important to me here, I want to make a life here, I love my church and I love this man.”

“He said that, did he?” Cassidy rested his head on the dashboard, dazed.

“Pretty damn close, yeah.” She glared at him from the driver’s side. After a few minutes of him fidgeting and her considering, she turned the car back on and continued their drive. “You ain’t worth it, asshole, ‘cause I saw you fuckin’ that girl into the mattress.”

“Don’ I know it,” he replied dejectedly. His head hadn’t left the dash.

She smacked him after she shifted gears, leaving his arm stinging and likely bruised. “Oi!”

“If there is one thing I cannot abide by, it is a mopey man. Now pull your skinny ass together or I’ll throw it outta my car, ya hear? Un-fucking-believable. I am hauling you over there to beg him for forgiveness, ain’t I? Oh, what a sight this is gonna be. I shoulda made popcorn.”

“Yer insane, is what you are.” Grumbling at the rising sun, he reached in the backseat and snatched her coat, struggling into it. Then he stole her sunglasses; the cheap, heart-shaped plastic oddly suited his eclectic look.

“And _you’ll_ be fucking lucky if he gets anywhere near you after the shit you pulled.”

“Fair point, but you don’ know him like I do. He’ll forgive me.”

Tulip scoffed and shook her head at the road. Cassidy got the sense she and Jesse went pretty far back, but it was thrilling to push her buttons, to see if she would lash out. If he didn’t rely so much on drugs for a good high, he would get it from reckless behavior like that.

The sun was still low when they pulled into the church lot. Tulip didn’t even bother to cut the engine; she nodded to the little white building and bid him goodbye with a mock salute and an unconvincing “good luck.”  Cassidy watched her go as if she was the sun. That is, with squinted eyes, a subtle sense of longing, and an overwhelming urge to run the opposite direction.

Standing at the altar, Jesse was a sight to behold. His hair was mussed, face gaunt like he hadn’t slept. When he saw Cass, a shadow crossed his features, but he did not move.

“Honey, I’m home,” Cassidy offered weakly. “Didja miss me?” He jogged the last few feet down the aisle and leaned over for a kiss, which Jesse spurned with a quick turn of his head.

“Darlin,’ don’ be like that,” the Irishman cooed, grabbing Jesse’s hand. He placed a gentle kiss to the inside of his wrist before he could be stopped.

Jesse jerked away. Cassidy met his eyes and almost immediately regretted it; there was darkness and sorrow and pain all swimming in the depths of them, and no mercy or light. “How was _Toadvile_?” he asked. He spat the word, made it sound like the most depraved of places.

He grinned, charming, casual. “Oh, Jess, ha, t’at was, I mean--”

Jesse shook his head, already backing off, already so far out of reach in so many ways. “I want you gone, Cassidy. I tried to pack up your shit, but you don’t have any. So you can go.”

His grin faltered. He was frozen in place, heart made of lead. “Jess… Please, Jess, God, I’ll do anythin,’ I swear--” His voice cracked and he grimaced.

The preacher laughed, a vicious, miserable sound that echoed off the high walls and ceiling. “I think you’ve done enough. What was her name? Oh, and Tulip, too. Yeah. I’d say that’s enough, unless you were planning on a few more.”

This was death. Cassidy had lost track of how many times he’d wished for death in his 119 years, but if this was what it felt like, he didn’t want it. He wanted life, he wanted Jesse, he wanted--

  
“I told you I loved you and you went and fucked some strangers? Way to show you care, Cass.” He seemed to catch himself at the nickname, working it over his tongue and frowning. Exhaling loudly, he straightened his back, stiffened his body, and pointed toward the door. “Out,” he repeated.

The vampire, frustrated, moved closer. His hands were up in surrender. “Oh, c’mon, it was one mistake--”

“Cassidy. Do not make me make you.” With his voice so low and his body language so aggressive, Cassidy didn’t doubt he would.

“You promised you’d never without permission,” he reminded his lover softly.

“ _Promised_? Promises don’t seem worth your time, Cassidy. Now get the fuck out of my church.”

He did, scrambling and swearing and shaking. He forgot to replace the coat over his shoulders in his haste, and ended his exit by catching his arm on fire. “Fuck you, too! Shite!” he shouted at the sky, and promptly doused it in a miraculous yet putrid-looking puddle.

Fuming, he walked all the way to the bar, keeping to the shadows. He drank an exorbitant amount of cheap alcohol, fought three men much bigger, but less ferocious, than he, and got thrown out around two in the afternoon because he couldn’t pay.

Winding drunkenly down the sidewalk, he hiccuped and pulled out the bottle he’d swiped after he’d been thrown behind the counter.

And then he walked all the way back to the church.

Night was falling when Cassidy finally stumbled up the steps, dirt and dust caking his shoes. He took those off at the door, discarding them along with his coat and shirt. Half naked, he wandered aimlessly down the aisle, knocking into pews and then cackling at them. Giddy from pain and drinking far too much blood, not to mention the alcohol and drugs coursing through his abused veins, he became brave and foolish all at once.

“Padre…” he whispered, but it came out as a shout. “Jess, listen, I’m sorry, but I knew you’d be here, you’re always here…”

But he wasn’t. The church was empty, a memory of drunken nights and early mornings the only presence in the room besides the suddenly listless vampire. Morose, he hit another pew, and crumpled to a heap on the floor. From there he sprawled onto his back and sloshed the bottle around before gulping the last half of it down. If he had his way, he’d have died of alcohol poisoning or asphyxiation long ago. It would have been better than crying alone on the floor of a god damn church.

 

**…**

 

“Cassidy? Cass? Wake up.” Someone was shaking him.

Groggily, the vampire stirred. His limbs were heavy and his brain was fuzzy, but he was still alive. “Absolute proof t’at God isn’t t’ere,” he slurred at said someone, whose hands felt remarkably like Jesse’s.

“Yeah, you really know how to get back on my good side. Up you go.”

Jesse propped Cassidy against one of the pews and slapped his cheek gently. When he opened his eyes, the preacher sighed in relief and his gaze softened before he schooled it into a scowl.

“What are you doin’ back here? I told you to go.”

“Didn’ want to,” Cassidy mumbled miserably. He wrapped his hands around Jesse’s wrists and pulled enough that the preacher, crouching on his tiptoes, lost his balance and tipped forward into his lap. Cassidy chuckled. “Missed you,” he admitted.

“Dammit, Cass.” He righted himself with dignity, situating himself beside, rather than on top of, his lover. He rubbed his face with his palms, hard, waking and readying himself. “Fuck. Y’know, I wish I didn’ love you. Tried for days to convince myself I didn’t. But I do, but that don’t change the fact that you fucked up bad, so… here we are.”

"You wouldn’t, if you knew what was good for ya.”

"I don't want what's good for me, Cass. I want you."

Cassidy’s heart leapt. He turned his head just as Jesse did, and kissed him like it was their first, chasing his tongue with his. They both tasted like stale whiskey and nicotine, but Cassidy would have given up either for just Jesse Custer in his hands, in his mouth.

“I fuckin’ love you, too, Jess. And I’m sorry, and I’ll try harder, and--”

“Tell you what,” Jesse said. He pulled back, with a whimpered protest from Cass, and took the vampire’s chin between his thumb and forefinger. Staring straight into his eyes, he murmured, “Kiss me again and we’ll call it even.”

Cassidy kissed him again.

 


End file.
